Katatonia

During the Nineties, metal gave us a long string of masterpieces, albums that nevertheless were quite different from what the previous decade had offered (an era obviously dominated by more classic heavy-speed sounds, still awaiting the great thrash wave). We're talking, then, about a period in which death metal finally exploded, closely followed by black metal and then gothic, not to mention the many cross-contaminations between subgenres that made the fortune of countless acts popping up from every corner of the planet.

Sweden's Katatonia, at the start of their career, took exactly this second path.

Let's start from the first half of the Nineties: the marriage of death and doom had already manifested itself in various forms, both through isolated episodes (think of the mighty "Into Darkness" by New York's Winter) and thanks to a well-defined scene, such as the glorious English triad made up of Anathema, My Dying Bride and Paradise Lost. At the same time, in Sweden, Johan Edlund's Tiamat were making waves, as were Katatonia, who rose to prominence with a high-intensity debut, "Dance Of December Souls" (1993), released on No Fashion. In any case, it was with the move to our own Avantgarde label that the Swedes raised the bar, first with an excellent four-track EP ("For Funerals To Come...") and then with the unsurpassable "Brave Murder Day", an album able to set itself apart from everything and everyone, starting with a striking cover (the band's logo, initially almost illegible due to its purplish colour, was later replaced with an identical one in black and white). Over Stockholm, a wind heavy with sinister omens was blowing.

While in Britain such sounds paired perfectly with romantic, allegorical or literary references (think of the very name Paradise Lost), "Brave Murder Day" took a very different path, choosing a bleak, depressive and desolate approach. It's no coincidence that, in the band's background, there were also dark references, already put into practice at the time with the recording of a track of clearly gothic rock lineage, "Scarlet Heavens". Moreover, the two founders Jonas Renkse and Anders Nyström were also fans of Slowdive and the most languid shoegaze sounds.

"Speaking to someone, breaking the windows, this house is dead, the sound of falling when the pictures are moving between the memories". The ten minutes of "Brave" burst in devastatingly: the main riff is a noose around the neck that drags us away, while Mikael Åkerfeldt's harsh vocals (friend and temporary collaborator of Katatonia, as well as a longtime member of Opeth) do the rest, painting a dark, painful and oppressive landscape. The track is fragmented, it slows down, it sinks, it often opens up into melody, only to return to its starting point, like a life cycle that ends in death. It should be said that, besides Åkerfeldt's harsh contribution, the band can also count on the support of a second guitarist who had recently joined the lineup (Fredrik Norrman), an important piece alongside the aforementioned leaders Renkse and Nyström (who here still goes by the name Blackheim).

"Murder" is shorter, but no less intense: the guitar cuts through like an icy breath, tearing apart a pile of carcasses abandoned to their fate. The atmosphere is desolate, a chilling landscape. We're in the realm of the masterpiece here, because a track like this can trigger a profound shudder capable of splitting the listener's guts in two. Dream or reality? We find ourselves teetering, suspended between a dreamlike dimension and a more earthly one. It's no coincidence that the following "Day" drags us into an alienating, surreal universe, where depression has become something you can touch with your hands. "Grey park look the same, all the days are pale" whisper the lips of Jonas Renkse (his are the clean vocals) in this acoustic ballad with deathly undertones. In some respects, it's a faint hint of what Katatonia would put into practice not long after with their 'discouraged' turn.

Past the halfway point, the record goes back to showing its black claws, this time with a sicker, more aggressive tone: the opening of "Rainroom" hooks you and leaves you to succumb beneath the storm, ahead of the most sumptuous melodic opening of the whole album, arriving before even two minutes have passed. Once it takes flight, the track twists through the soft snow of a relaxing break (Renkse in the spotlight again), before plunging back down into hell, among the catacombs of the soul.

"12" represents these Swedes' heaviest side (the doom metal component emerges forcefully), although it should be said that the track is anything but new, being a reworking of "Black Erotica" (a less effective version released some time before on a compilation). The lyrics are grim poetry: "black theatre of love, violet dances cast their blood, the moon gave me flowers, for funerals to come".

Funerals that are not long in coming, since "Endtime" has a programmatic title that leaves no room for hope ("now fall into a vacant sphere, pierced by the darkness, they called it death and surrounded me with sleep"). The track is harrowing, a blade that sinks with surgical precision into our body, withdrawing only when there's nothing left around us that could warm our heart. The acoustic arpeggio, before taking its leave, is accompanied by a gloomy whisper taken from the film "Shining": "Because, for some people, solitude and isolation can, of itself, become a problem. Not for me". When the riff bursts in, there isn't even time to cry, because "Endtime" manages to connect the eternity of music with the fragility of our existence, in a contrast with tragic and dramatic outcomes.

Recorded at Dan Swanö's then-popular Unisound Studios (Edge Of Sanity, Bloodbath and much more), "Brave Murder Day" was originally released in its rawest form, only to be remastered in 2006, when Peaceville's reissue hit the shelves (including, as a bonus, the tracks from the subsequent "Sounds Of Decay" EP). Yes, mood mattered more than production or the (supposed) pursuit of perfection, fully in keeping with the standards tied to underground music.

This is just one of the reasons why we chose this record and not another Katatonia album. Because, to be clear, the Swedes' prolific career has given us plenty of satisfaction, even well into the new millennium, the era of the soft turn that brought new fans closer to the Scandinavians' sound. However, "Brave Murder Day" remains their most influential and devastating album, not only for the death-doom scene (from these seeds sprang fertile entities like the cousins in October Tide or the Finnish Swallow The Sun), but for something that was germinating in great secrecy, writhing in pain and despair: depressive suicidal black metal.

First of all, in that same year, 1996, Anders Nyström had made his debut with a side project called Diabolical Masquerade: "Ravendusk In My Heart", while embracing the melodic-symphonic side of black metal, established a strong connection between Katatonia's music and that almost inaccessible side of extreme metal, once reserved for the chosen few. Secondly, the harrowing, droning riffs and the very atmospheres of "Brave Murder Day" would lay the groundwork for the aforementioned DSBM, alongside the neurotic evolutions of the unwholesome Bethlehem or the more rarefied drift of Burzum and their associates.

In Sweden, for instance, names of absolute stature such as Niklas Kvarforth's Shining or the sorely missed, exceptional Lifelover, would never have existed without knowing the Katatonian alphabet, made up of guitar work as lacerating as it is annihilating. The same goes for the very Italian Forgotten Tomb (another major depressive black outfit doubly tied to the dark evolutions of the record under examination here), not to mention the legacy picked up by countless cult bands from the most disparate corners of the globe (one name above all, the Georgian Psychonaut 4).

It is therefore striking to note the specific weight of "Brave Murder Day", both along its own vertical path and in its transversal reach, as unwitting as it was illuminating for the era. As already stated at the outset, this is a one-off in its genre, also because the Katatonia of "Dance Of December Souls" were still deeply doom-oriented, while back home only the odd flicker of something comparable to their music could be felt (from the earliest Opeth – more than anything due to a blood tie – to the little-celebrated Ophthalamia, also from Stockholm and fronted by Jon Nödtveidt of Dissection).

From here, we move on to one last point, no less important. This valiant release was put together after a brief hiatus, following a necessary break during which Nyström had devoted himself to writing Diabolical Masquerade's debut, while Renske, for his part, was intent on getting October Tide off the ground. Two complementary satellites, tiny nonetheless next to the one true goal: to change Katatonia's fate (or blow everything up), grafting onto the original skeleton elements drawn from both dark and depressive-rock, alongside an entirely unprecedented emotional charge, steeped in black sorrow and violet resignation.

The death splashed across the cover can only accompany, much like that piercing scream generated by these desperate notes. There's no use clawing at salvation, "Brave Murder Day" was born to destabilize our minds and to block out every glimmer of light before our eyes.

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03/12/2023